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Hello (Again) World

I am back to blog once more. Yes really, I read an interesting piece today, the subject of which falls in the the road to hell is paved wit...

Monday

Liar, Scaredy Yellow Pants

About 11 months ago we hear reports of Saddam tough talking like this.
"Saddam Hussein has in recent days spoken on television of his intention to die in Iraq and to die fighting if necessary."
Then a little over a month and a half ago we hear this load of, well, lets just call it a load.
"My name is Saddam Hussein,...I am the president of Iraq and I want to negotiate."
Negotiate? Negotiate? Why not "My name is Saddam Hussein,...I am the president of Iraq and you'll never take me ALIIIIVE!!!, Muh wahahaha!"

The rest of the story could have read like this: Then the 'tyrant without a country' came out the hole, appearing to have muscled up during his time underground. With guns blazing, sixpack rippling, and mouth screaming 'Eat lead American pig-dogs', did a few bullet time moves as bullets whizzed by, realized he wasn't Neo and was then riddled with heavy machine gun fire, light arms fire, some small stones and more than a few spitwads.

Still firing his matching chrome plated 'Saddam city' specials and spouting bright read Sunni blood from dozens of newly American-made orifices, a few of which had been neatly plugged by the smattering of spitwad fire, Saddam screamed prpheticly 'Come on, you sons of men who have no sons can do better than that!, This will be the mother of all death scenes!' At that a flurry of grenades are lobbed into the air over his head and detonate, causing the Ramboesque scene to end as violently as it began. With Saddam coalescing into Hussein stew and draining back into the spider hole. Later, smiling but visibly grossed out coalition forces used an ice cream scoop to retrieve his carcass.

NOOOO, instead we get this load...er...story,
Saddam was hiding in a polystyrene-covered underground hide-out near one of his former palaces in his hometown of Tikrit. He was dishevelled and wearing a thick beard, and though he was armed with a pistol, the man who waged and lost two wars against the United States and its allies did not resist or fire a shot.
So the tough talk was just talk.

Know what worse than being a big loser? Being a big lying scaredy yellow pants loser loser. That's right, I said loser twice and I don't care. This Saddam capture story is about as stale as bag of crackers left out open on the counter for a month and a half but I don't care about that either.

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